A "girl from Vegita's past comes back to haunt him" story. Because the idea won't leave me alone until I write it down. A retelling of an older story. Contains swearing and violence. Probably never going to be working on this any more, sorry.

Vegita
didn't turn around. "Of course I'm not surprised. Kakarrotto couldn't
have been the one to suggest that we take our sparring elsewhere; he's
not that considerate." He looked around at the lifeless terrain where
he and Kakarrotto had once battled for the fate of the planet.
"Although I'm just a bit disturbed that you know this much about me."

"I
know a thing or two, yes." She strolled to his side, just behind his
peripheral vision. "But one can only learn so much by watching from
the outside. The rest--including how the little royal bratling became
a family man--is a complete mystery."

It would have been
pathetically easy to turn her in a smoldering heap of ashes, and she
knew it. Which was exactly why Vegita was going to steadfastly pretend
that she didn't bother him in the least. "I don't see how that's any
of your business."

She made a move as if to approach him, but
settled for rocking on the balls of her feet instead. "Come on,
Vegita. There's nobody here. You don't have to pretend that you don't
know me."

Vegita looked her up and down, taking in her long,
black, obviously Saiyajin hair and furry brown tail that betrayed her
by swishing back and forth. "All I can come up with whenever I try to
think of you is one big, long blank."

She stiffened slightly, but
recovered before he could make any comments about her lack of
self-control. "Well, then, maybe this will refresh your memory." She
leapt up to a pillar, one of the few that weren't vaporized decades ago
in Vegita's furtive attempt to destroy Kakarrotto. And once again,
Vegita hoped that the selection of this locale was a mere coincidence
instead of just another part of this Saiyajin's inexplicable obsession
with him. A light breeze swirled around her as she began to speak, and
her decidedly ungirlish voice carried easily across the space between
them.

"'Get up! You can do better than that'
'I can't.' His body hurt. His hurts had hurts. The slightest bit of motion resulted in searing,
blinding agony.
'Stand up, or this is the day you die, Little Prince!' She began to gather a sphere of energy
in her outstretched hand. 'You'll be buried in a forgotten grave and replaced with some
other nameless brat.' Was it just his imagination, or did her voice break when she said
that? 'No one will mourn you, do you hear? No one!'"

The
dim vision of a boring lecture tugged at the back of Vegita's mind, but
he did not indulge in any reminiscence. "So you know the nursery tale
of how a pauper supposedly came to inherit the throne of Vegitasei
because the King's only child was female."

This time, she
bristled visibly. "It wasn't just a nursery tale, or the government
wouldn't have been so eager to ban the 'Lady Kaede' version. I may
have only been six at the time, but unlike some slackers I kept up with
current events."

The resonance was stronger, but once again
Vegita dismissed it. "That was all very enlightening, really, but I
have better things do to than sit here and put up with your nonsense."

Just
as he stood up, she was standing before him, a glowing sword pointed at
his throat. "Well, then, you do remember this little device, don't
you?" She peered down the length of it at him, her dark eyes
smoldering. "I wonder how it feels to be stabbed with your own life
force?"

Vegita grabbed her arm as she lunged forward and twisted
it. She spun with it, letting go of the sword and using the momentum
of her body to strike at him. Vegita blocked easily, and then roared
with surprise as the sword took on a life of its own and swung at him,
nicking the edge of his arm.

"Come on, Little Prince, don't tell
me that's all you got," she taunted, still quoting the age-old words of
some slave's fantasies. And yet, her body language did not read as
particularly hostile. The sword, too, merely acted a distraction,
cutting in when Vegita got too close to her. "Come on, there's only
twenty-eight days of fun and games left."

Vegita blinked. That
line had been in the story, too. Something about the former Princess
being shipped off to another planet so she wouldn't be a bad influence
on the Crown Prince. And then--and then what? He had only read the
tale once, as part of the mind-blindingly painful critical analysis
course his tutors wouldn't let him skimp on no matter how many times he
tried to wriggle out of it. And this blasted Saiyajin dancing in front
of him, treating him like a child, wasn't helping matters at all.
"What the hell do you want?"

And just as suddenly as she started,
she stopped, and the sword dropped harmlessly to the ground. "Vegita.
It's me," she said softly in their native tongue. "Why won't you talk
to me? Do you really hate me that much?"

'Now she tries the crying,' Vegita thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 'Even Bulma does a better job at this.'

But no tears came. She just stood there, waiting. "Vegita."

What
did she expect him to do? He certainly wasn't about to lie to her,
especially not to make her happy. "I can't hate someone I don't
remember."

"So you really don't remember. Good." She picked up
the sword from the ground. "At least it will make ending your
miserable lives easier."

Vegita checked his arm; the blood was
already coagulating, and he was otherwise uninjured. "At this rate,
you and your spongy cohorts will be the ones to die instead."

She shrugged. "I guess we'll find out twenty-eight days later."

And then she was gone, leaving Vegita alone with his thoughts.

-

Bra
punched in the special keycode using the keypad that Mama had installed
at kiddie height when her brother Trunks--but she liked to call him
'Trunch', to tease him--was old enough to use the room by himself.
"Okay. Now the fun part begins."

Pan tested out her arms and legs experimentally. "Cool! This is like being at the moon walk, except backwards!"

"It
gets even better. Watch." Bra sat down in her circle of dolls and
began to concentrate. Slowly, one of them began to rise off the ground.

"Wow,"
Pan watched in awe as the doll levitated and made an elegant, albeit
upside-down, circuit around the room. "How'd you do that?"

"It's
easy. See, the line where you begin and everything else ends is really
fuzzy, so all you have to do is reach just a little bit and change the
shape of the line--" Bra demonstrated by crossing her energies with
Pan's.

"Oooooooh," Pan breathed. "Papa can do it, too, but he
hasn't teached me yet. He says I should wait until I'm more grown up,
first."

Bra, having had more practice, effortlessly levitated
another doll. "Grownups are stupid. They whisper and pretend like we
don't know anything. Well, we'll show them that we can fight, too."

Pan nodded. "How many more days?"

"Twenty-eight." Bra helped as Pan bobbled a doll, nearly dropping it to the ground. "Nono, you're forcing it too hard."

"Oh,
okay." This time, Pan managed to correct the tilt herself, and she
broke into a grin at this accomplishment. "This is easy! We're going
to kick their butts!"

Bra let another doll rise into the air,
joining the others in an intricate dance. "No. No butt-kicking. We
just stop them from hurting our Papas and Uncles."

-

Goten
stretched out on the hill, letting his sore muscles get a break.
"You've come up with some pretty hair brained ideas, Trunks, but this
is your worst yet."

"It got you out of the house, didn't it?"
Trunks rotated his arm and winced regretfully. "And besides, it's
always good to have a Plan B in case Plan A doesn't work."

"What's Plan A? Ow!" Goten punched Trunks back in the same spot where he had been hit, and groaned as he overextended.

"Come
on, Goten! We've only got twenty-eight days left!" Trunks pulled his
hovercar capsule out of his pocket and threw it to the ground. "Let's
stop by Karin's for a quick break and give it another shot."

Goten groaned again. "You're not going to stop until we get it right, are you?"

"What
do you think? Not only do all the motions have to be perfect, we have
to make sure we don't repeat the Buu debacle." Trunks extended a hand
to Goten. "Can you still move?"

Goten grabbed Trunks by the arm,
winced again as another wave of pain shot through his body, and
wrenched himself to his feet. "Barely."

Trunks nodded
sympathetically. "All right, then only a little light sparring after
Karin's, and then we visit the good old boob tube."

Goten grinned. "Now you're talking."

-

Gohan
wrapped his arms around his wife lightly and shared a quick but
intimate kiss as she entered his office pulling a large cooler behind
her. "Mmm. Lunch and dessert. You spoil me."

Videl made a mock scandalized expression. "Here? Now? What would the neighbors think?"

With
Videl still hugged against him, Gohan twirled around dramatically,
causing her to shriek in delight, and closed the thick oak doors. "The
room is soundproofed. No one will hear a thing."

And of course, by saying such a thing, Gohan inevitably invoked Murphy's Law.

The
phone on Gohan's desk sprang to life with the voice of his
administrative assistant. "Mr. Son? Your mother sent you lunch again."

Gohan sighed. "I'll be downstairs to sign for the packages right away."

"Actually, I've already signed for it and it's outside your office."

"Thanks."
Gohan opened the door and grimaced at the number of boxes sitting in
front of his office. "This is still too much, even for me."

Videl flopped down on the couch as Gohan brought them in. "She still sends you lunch?"

"She
used to drop them off in person and wouldn't leave until I ate all of
it." Gohan sighed again. "And she used to cook twice as much as this."

Videl took the last package and forced a smile. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about dinner tonight."

Gohan
unpacked one of his mother's labors of love and wondered whether he
should drop the other bombshell. Maybe later. After all, the threat
didn't quite feel real enough yet, and although Videl tended to be a
bit more progressive in certain matters, she was just as fiercely
protective of Pan as Chi-Chi had been of him.

Videl stared into
an open lunchbox, chopsticks poised thoughtfully above a morsel. "Do
you think those Suponjin are serious? About--you know."

Gohan nearly choked an a spear of asparagus. Did she just read his mind? "I don't know, but it's best to assume the worst."

Videl
nodded, still not eating. "Pan's starting to take an interest in
martial arts. I told her I'd think about letting her take lessons."

Well, no point in avoiding the topic now. "I could teach her."

"That'd be nice," Videl answered absently.

Gohan pulled Videl into a hug. "It'll be all right, Videl. Things will turn out fine."

Videl squeezed back, holding on as if for dear life. "I hope so, too."

-

Bra put a hand on Pan's shoulder. "Relax, Pan. She's not the enemy."

"She is too!" Pan snarled. "I heard Papa and Mama talk about her! She wants to kill all of us!"

The stranger's lips quirked upward in a manner that reminded Bra of her father. "Will you try to stop me then, little warrior?"

"No," Bra cut in before the fuming Pan could actually try to start a fight. "My name is Bra, and this is Pan."

"Ah," the stranger nodded. "I suppose I should say 'nice to meet you'."

"HEY!" With that furious shout from her brother, Bra felt herself being swept up into his arms.

The
children were, as usual, ignored as the 'adults' discussed 'grown-up'
stuff. "What are you doing in my house?" Trunks demanded.

"Your
mother," the stranger replied, pausing just long enough to watch Trunks
squirm, "invited me over to help with her research. I suppose I should
be a bit more worried given the fact that said research is most likely
on how to kill me, but--" and here she shrugged.

Trunks did not look happy about his newest houseguest. "So why are you wandering around?"

"You're
so cute when you do that 'Chief of Homeland Security' face, Little
Prince." The stranger reached out to pinch Trunks' cheek, but he batted
her hand away.

"Answer the question," Trunks all but hissed,
hands clenching into fists and the barest hint of a golden glow
lighting his sour features.

"Not that it's really any of your
business, but I have the rest of the day off." She shook her head.
"And you really need to relax. I'm no so stupid as to attack your
precious baby sister in your own house a month before the rest of the
happy fun genocide is supposed to start."

Pan's eyes went wide. "Ooh, I think she just dissed you!"

Bra
slapped her forehead with her palm and grimaced. Leave it up to Pan to
say the worst possible thing at the worst possible moment. Goten,
meanwhile, went into a coughing fit as he laughed backwards into his
throat, and the stranger herself seemed on the verge of guffawing as
well.

Trunks was, needless to say, Not Amused. "I'm warning you--"

"Don't
even try, Little Prince. There is absolutely nothing you can threaten
me with." Bra shuddered a bit as the stranger's now completely cold
eyes swept over her. "And if I really wanted to have my way with
her--or any one of you--not even Vegita himself could stop me."

Trunks made the mistake of trying to grab the stranger in the arm.

She
intercepted him easily, snatching his wrist out of the air and twisting
it just far enough to cause pain. Trunks winced, but his hold on Bra
did not falter.

"If it were not in my best interest to hold back,
you would be short one limb right now," she informed him quite
matter-of-factly. When Trunks' only response was to flare slightly,
the stranger let go. "Good. You're finally starting to learn how to
pick your battles wisely, instead of charging into everything like some
reckless spoiled brat that's never really fought anything tougher than
itself."

Time for Bra to the rescue, or something. "He helped
saved the world twice." All right, so one of the times wasn't exactly
Trunks, but his time-traveling alter ego, but the stranger didn't have
to know that.

"Did he now?" The stranger examined Trunks up and
down a few times, causing him to look rather uncomfortable. "Well,
well, well. Appearances can be quite deceiving."

"You can put me
down now, Trunch," Bra said, taking full control of the situation. "I
was just going to show my new friend here all your embarrassing baby
pictures."

"Like you know where they are," Trunks muttered,
complying nonetheless. He knew that Bra always got her way, no matter
what, and he was still undoubtedly smarting from the lesson in why it
was a bad idea to mess with an unknown threat.

"She does too!"
Pan chirped, giving Goten a hearty thump on the back of his head. "Now
put me down, Ten-ten, before I clonk you another!"

"Ow! Okay! You
don't have to hit so hard, geez!" Goten lets Pan drop unceremoniously
while he puts on a melodramatic display of mock pain.

Bra rolled her eyes and took the stranger's hand into hers. "Come on. Let's get away from these boys."

The stranger smiled again, and this time she was genuine, even kind. "As you wish, my Lady."

-

Trunks
rubbed his shoulder ruefully as they walked to their part of the house,
jokingly dubbed the 'Den of Solitude'. "Thanks for being ever so
helpful when your best friend since childhood was in dire peril."

Goten
shrugged. "Hey, I had my arms full with Pan. Blood is thicker than
water and all that, you know. Besides, I'm not stupid." Like you, his
annoyed expression seemed to imply.

"She was in my house," Trunks all but growled.

"Your
mom's house," Goten corrected a bit too cheerfully, almost getting
clobbered in the head a second time as a result. He headed to the
miniature fridge and pulled out two sodas, tossing one to Trunks.
"Geez, and I thought your dad was the overactive violent one."

"And
that's the weird thing. Dad hasn't done jack shit. He's twitchy as
hell, though." Trunks opened the bottle with his teeth while he leafed
through his extensive game collection. He spat the cap into the
recently empty bowl, smiling a bit at his mother's angry note declaring
that she's not his maid, and then scowled again. "I can't believe
Mom--" he shook his head. "No, actually, I can. She's always been the
type to take charge and face trouble head on." Even if it might kill
her, he almost said.

"Yeah. My Mom's taking all of this
surprisingly well, too." Goten sighed. "I think she's totally lost it.
Not only is she acting more normal than she's ever been in years,
she--" and here he blushed furiously. "She's encouraging me to go out
and 'expand my horizons'! What the hell is that supposed to mean!"

"I
think it means, 'go out and get laid, son'." Trunks couldn't help but
laugh as Goten turned even redder. "You should totally go for it,
before she reverts to her usual paranoid self."

"No freaking way!" Goten exclaimed, looking like he was about to explode from embarrassment. "She'd kill me!"

"So?
You already died once and you're gonna bit the big one permanently
someday. Might as well get your cherry popped before that happens."

Goten sank further into the couch. "You don't have to make it sound so crude."

"And you don't have to sound like some uptight old church lady." Trunks gave him a look. "You do like girls, right?"

Goten colored again. "Of course I do! It just--feels wrong to look at a girl and want to--to--"

'Fuck
her into next week?' Trunks thought, but he knew better than to state
that out loud. The poor kid was so sheltered that the mere thought of
holding hands with a girl that wasn't family could make him faint.
"All right, all right. Back to what's 'really' important." He turned
the speakers to full blast and basked in the resultant ocean of music.

Bulma
blinked as Vegita (Vegita?) set down a steaming mug of coffee in front
of her. "What's the catch?" She asked, looking back and forth between
the coffee and the husband she thought she had figured out.

Bulma wasn't sure whether to feel touched or paranoid. "And why, pray tell, did it occur to you to give me coffee?"

"And
why does there have to be a 'why'?" Vegita leaned over her, peering at
the screen Bulma had been studying, and she felt her heart skip a beat
when his arm brushed against hers. "Well, well, well. Did you wrangle
a confession out of that girl, or did you figure all of this out by
your genius self?"

It was beyond silly to be blushing like a
teenager for this infuriating Saiyajin (worse because he surely noticed
and would give her no end of teasing), but something about the lilt in
his voice and the posture of his body put her in the mood for mischief.
"A little bit of both, I guess. Talking to that girl was worse than
squeezing blood from a rock."

"Wouldn't it be more productive to
find out who's pulling her strings and using your charms on them
instead?" Before Bulma could sock Vegita in the arm for that, he
continued. "Of course, they probably won't care for a solution that
doesn't involve exterminating us, but it might be worth a shot."

Pretty
much every romantic inclination fled at that thought. (Whether this
was for good or for ill remained to be seen.) Bulma sighed. "Why do
these kinds of things always have to end like that?"

Vegita shrugged. "If you come up with any plausible alternatives, I'm all ears."

Bulma
found herself staring even well after Vegita left the room, wondering
whether he had been replaced by some sort of non-evil twin.

-

"--and
this is a picture of everybody on my birthday!" Bra handed the album to
the stranger and got up. "I need to go potty, I'll be right back,
okay?" She ran out of the room without waiting for an answer and
quickly found Papa, who was heading her way.

"Hey there, Princess," Papa greeted, picking her up and swung her through the air before setting her on his broad shoulders.

"Shh!" Bra admonished. "You'll scare her away!"

"Oh, right." Papa dropped his voice to an exaggerated whisper. "Is this better?"

Bra giggled as quietly as she could. "You're so silly, Papa!"

"Yes, yes, quite." Papa began walking again, swaying like he had too much to drink. "My, you're getting big, Bra."

Bra grabbed two large fistfuls of Papa's thick, spikey hair and twisted them to the right. "No, no, the other way!"

Papa gently took Bra's hands into his. "As you wish, Princess."

-

Pan
easily picked up the heavy photo album and put it back on the shelf,
then got the stranger another one. "This isn't fair, you know."

"What isn't fair?"

"You
know a lot about us, but we don't know anything about you." Pan sat
facing the stranger and crossed her arms. "And you won't tell us
anything, not even your name."

"Why should I tell you anything? You'd think I was lying."

Pan thought about this long and hard. "I could pretend to believe you," she finally offered.

The
Saiyajin blinked and stared at Pan in stunned silence for a good
minute. "That'd be nice, wouldn't it, to pretend?" she mused out loud.
Her hand rested on a picture of a group picture taken at one of the
reunions held long before Pan had been born.

The clock on the
wall began to chime, indicating that Pan's favorite show was on. "Um,
I can't talk to you right now. Maybe another time, okay?"

The Saiyajin turned the page and began looking at a new set of pictures. "Maybe."

"That's
a promise!" Pan called as she ran as fast as she could to the nearest
room with a television with barely a backwards glance.

-

Dinner.

They--the
Briefs, the Sons (all of them!), and the Saiyajin--somehow managed to
fit in the kitchen. Bulma claimed this made for a more intimate dining
affair, but Trunks' suspicion was that she simply didn't want to go
through the trouble of setting up the formal reception area.

Bulma
presided at the head of the table, along with two sets of unused
silverware for her deceased parents. Vegita was to her right, and
Trunks to her left. Next to Trunks was Bra, who insisted that the
Saiyajin eat with her, and of course that meant Pan sat with her too,
but due to space constraints she was actually in Gohan's lap. Videl
shared the end of the table with Goten rather awkwardly, since she was
left-handed. However, the only other lefty at the table was Chi-Chi
(whose appearance at Capsule Corp was not entirely a surprise, but not
entirely welcome, either), and she was on the other side of Goku so
that his large body mostly prevented the two women from glaring at each
other.

Bulma kept most of the conversation going, talking about
safe, superficial subjects in a running monologue that was occasionally
interrupted by the two girls piping up to put their two cents in.
Vegita behaved himself remarkably well, keeping a straight face through
some of the things that even Trunks had a hard time not rolling his
eyes at. Gohan was trying to eat and feed Pan, something he couldn't
quite do simultaneously. Goku and Goten stuffed themselves, oblivious
to everything else going around them.

The Saiyajin--

The
Saiyajin finished first and rose, nodding towards Bulma. "It was a
nice meal, but I'd rather not impose on you like this on a regular
basis."

"I don't plan on feeding you every day, either," Bulma
replied half-jokingly. "Only when I invite you over to be my guinea
pig."

"Always the best policy, right?" Bulma poked Trunks in the ribs. "Be a gentleman and walk her out."

A
chorus of "me too!" sprang up from Pan and Bra, which of course turned
into a cacophony of whining as their respective parents vetoed the idea.

"Why does Trunch get to go?" Pan asked, twisting this way and that in Gohan's arms. "It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair," the Saiyajin and Vegita answered simultaneously.

Trunks
shoveled a few extra mouthfuls of food in the silence that followed,
then stood as well. He cleared his throat. "Let's get going."

The Saiyajin resumed her air of neutrality. "Yes, let's."

-

Bulma
blinked several times to make sure that her lack of sleep wasn't
causing her to imagine that the Saiyajin girl was sitting in the
Capsule Corp living room looking through the remainder of the
photographs that she had been perusing before the meal.

When she
was sufficiently certain that this was no hallucination, Bulma stepped
into the doorway. "You can turn the lights on, I won't mind."

The girl only continued to examine the pictures. "I can see just fine."

"What about coffee?" Bulma offered, entering the room.

"No, thanks." Now the girl raised her head. "Do you have some sort of death wish?"

"You
don't have any reason to kill me, not right now." Bulma sat down next
to the girl. "And if I were going to die anyway, I'd do it in a way
that might make a difference, instead of cowering in a corner
somewhere."

The girl smiled slightly. "A sentiment worthy of a Saiyajin. No wonder Vegita's so taken with you."

Bulma snorted. "Taken? If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he was trying to drive me crazy."

"He might be," the girl remarked thoughtfully. "But he certainly has a strange way of going about it."

Bulma wondered just how old this girl was. "You sound like you're pretty familiar with Vegita."

The girl's attention went back to the pictures. "I thought I was."

'What's
that supposed to mean?' Bulma wanted to ask, but thought better of
herself. She knew from her earlier experience that afternoon that if
the girl didn't want to talk, there was nothing Bulma could do about
it. 'And I had thought Vegita was good at dodging questions. Sheesh.'

The girl's eyes were on Bulma again. "Is there something on my face?"

Bulma was about to apologize when she had an idea. She gave the girl a coy smirk. "Guess."

The girl chuckled. "Playing hard to get, are you? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."

Bulma
pretended to ogle the girl. "Now that you mention it, you are quite
the looker. Too bad I'm already married and not into girls. Besides,
I think my son's closer to your age anyway."

"The Little Prince?" It was the girl's turn to snort. "He's even more spoiled than his father."

"That he is," Bulma agreed. "By the way, he didn't give you any more while he was walking you out, did he?"

"Nah."
The girl closed the album with a quick flick of her wrist. "All right,
it's been fun, but that's enough reconnaisance for the day."

"Just a sec." Bulma took out her wallet and quickly found the most recent photo of the group together. "Here."

"That's a very nice gesture, but--" the girl gestured to herself. "As you can see, I don't have any pockets."

"Oh,
right." Bulma scratched her cheek sheepishly, examining the girl's
armor more closely this time. In addition to the typical 'glorified
spandex', as Bulma jokingly dubbed the suit, the girl also wore a belt
upon which hung something that looked like it could have come off the
set of a science fiction movie. Bulma wondered what the odd symbol
stitched just beneath the golden shoulder band meant, but she had a
feeling the girl wasn't in any mood to talk about it. "I'm sure you
can figure something out."

"I guess I could try." The girl stood. "Good night."

"Good night."

Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress' Notes:
Dialogue more realistic, action condensed, and I still managed to cover most of the necessary information. W00t.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.